


If Only for A Night

by clokcwork_dragon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Old Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clokcwork_dragon/pseuds/clokcwork_dragon
Summary: For centuries, Seteth had refused to show weakness in front of anyone; he carried himself with dignity even during the hardest of times, a pillar of stability everyone could rely on. But there come times when even he requires the help of others, and when his past injuries from the War of Heroes begin to act up, Manuela convinces him to trust her, if only for this one time, if only for this one night.
Relationships: Manuela Casagranda/Seteth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	If Only for A Night

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many multichapter projects & a writing commission I need to finish and yet what do I do? Wriite more one-shots. 
> 
> While my OTP for Seteth is Jeralt, I also absolutely love him with Manuela! There's so much potential for the development for both characters, and it was genuinely very enjoyable to write them. I think I outdid myself when it comes to how sappy this got towards the end, lol. Hope y'all enjoy!

Seteth was having a bad day, all things considered. More accurately, he’d been having a bad week.

The pain in his back had started a few days earlier after a flying exercise with some of the students that were interested in becoming wyvern-riders, and he had made the mistake of choosing to ignore it. Rather than taking the following day off, he had pushed himself through teaching sessions as usual. But by that evening, the pain was starting to get so bad he could hardly stand.

It wasn’t just the pain, either. It brought back memories he had desperately tried to force to the back of his mind. Every night he would wake up drenched in cold sweat, images of his people’s -his _wife’s-_ corpses flashing across his eyes as the jagged scar across his back throbbed and burned. After the second night, he’d just chosen to stay awake and gaze at the ceiling rather than subject himself to these flashbacks any further. He knew they’d fade away when the pain did.

Only, it didn’t seem to fade away. It had been five days in a row, and if anything it was getting worse.

 _Perhaps it’s because you’re running yourself ragged instead of getting some rest,_ Flayn had scolded him when she saw him wince as he tried to get up from his chair. He had waved her off, insisting he’d just pulled a muscle during training, but he knew she hadn’t believed him.

She had been right, of course. He wouldn’t get better unless he took a break. But, well, he didn’t want to talk to Rhea about it (doubtless she’d ask questions and dwell into things he wanted to forget), and besides, with the White Heron Cup coming up, the other professors had their hands full without needing to cover up for him in his absence.

He’d resolved in the morning to not let his torment show at all anymore, not even to Flayn. She didn’t need to worry. But by the evening, while he was stumbling back to his chambers, he felt ready to collapse. He gritted his teeth as he made the long, strenuous climb up the second-to-last flight of stairs; if he could only hold on for a short while longer, he’d make it to his room and just lie down, and surely he’d feel better the following morning, and-

“Seteth?”

Manuela’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks, and in an effort to appear as unbothered as possible he straightened up- which he regretted a moment later, wincing as his spine twinged in response.

“Good evening, Manuela,” he managed to keep his voice stable, at least “is there something I can help you with?”

“I was about to ask you the same. Flayn told me you haven’t been doing so well, and frankly I can see it too.”

Seteth grunted and made a mental note to have a word with Flayn about this later.

“It’s nothing, I assure you. Just an old injury acting up. I’m certain I will be able to sleep it off.”

Manuela looked anything but convinced, and she raised her eyebrow in a way that almost made him flinch.

“Doesn’t sound like _nothing_ to me. Leaving such ailments untreated can impact your health further, you know.”

Right, of course. Manuela was a physician. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook about this, was she?

Seteth let out a small, tired sigh.

“Look, Manuela, I do appreciate your concern. But… I would rather not make a fuss out of it.”

“You don’t have to.” Manuela replied. “Make a fuss out of it, I mean. Just let me take a look and-“

_“No.”_

He could see she’d been startled by the harshness in his voice, and he immediately felt bad about it. It wasn’t her fault; it wasn’t even Flayn’s. He cleared his throat.

“My apologies. That was extremely rude of me.” He said, taking care to soften his voice. “But it is complicated, to say the least. And I do not wish to bother you with- _gah!_ ”

He hadn’t even moved, so he wasn’t entirely certain of how it happened; but suddenly all he could feel was sharp bolts of pain across his back and legs, so strong and abrupt that his vision blurred and his breath hitched at the back of his throat as he collapsed down onto the staircase. His elbow hit the edge of a step, and all that stopped his head from doing the same was pure instinct. He blinked, breathing heavily and trying to push through the pain. Next thing he knew, Manuela was kneeling by his side.

“Seteth! By the Saints, you absolute fool.” It seemed it had been her turn to snap at him. “Are you alright?”

 _Not really,_ but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Hell, he didn’t even think he needed to. His current predicament spoke for itself. He just groaned, trying -and failing- to sit up.

Manuela’s hand lingered on his arm, and he made no move to dislodge it. He just looked away from her, still breathing with some effort. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you going to let me help you now, or should I leave you to spend the night here? I’m sure the staircase is very comfortable a bed.”

Even though he could barely restraint himself from crying out, Seteth found himself blushing. Manuela generally seemed to have that effect on him; making him flustered for no apparent reason other than just being… there. Being herself.

He chastised himself for it, but was forced to shake his head slowly.

“I… I suppose I have no choice.” He sounded deflated, and Manuela flashed him an encouraging smile.

“No need to look so pressed about it. I’m sure even a great, stone-faced warrior like you is allowed a moment of weakness.”

He didn’t know why, but the way she said the word _warrior_ made his heart skip a beat. He forced himself to write it off as an effect of his present weakness, but allowed her to help him up nonetheless. Strangely, it didn’t feel as humiliating or improper as he’d expected.

Perhaps he was tired of depending on nobody but himself. Perhaps, for once, he wished for someone to help him, too.

The infirmary wasn’t far from the stairs; only around the corner of the second floor, across from Hanneman’s study. Yet every step was agony, even with Manuela for support. He wasn’t able to swallow back the short, breathless sounds of pain at every step, grunting and biting his lower lip so firmly that he soon tasted blood. Manuela murmured words of encouragement all the while, insisting he was doing great and that it was only a little further. If she felt too burdened by the way he involuntarily threw his weight on her smaller frame, she didn’t say nor show it.

It took them much longer than it should have, but in the end they made it. Seteth believed he had never felt more grateful to be sitting down. Manuela took a look at his pale, haggard face, and let out a huff.

“You really need to take better care of yourself. Seriously, why do you always have to be one step before collapsing before asking for help, huh?”

Despite himself, Seteth let out a small, exhausted chuckle. “I’m afraid that this time I cannot even claim it was one step _before_ I collapsed.”

Manuela clicked her tongue in annoyance. “If you didn’t already look so miserable, I’d give you a proper earful. Now, tell me where it hurts. Is it your legs?”

“No.” Seteth shook his head slowly. “It affects my legs too, but the initial injury was on my back.”

Manuela hummed. “Back injuries are nasty. How bad?”

“…Bad.” He didn’t want to say anything else. He didn’t want to remember the moment Freikugel had cleaved through him, severing the nerves and shattering the bones of his spine. But when Manuela raised a questioning eyebrow, he realised she would demand more information.

 _She’s the physician. Of course she would ask for details. She doesn’t care about_ you, _she only wants to do her job. It’s not opening up to her, it’s just sharing practical information._

He swallowed thickly.

“…An axe broke my spine.” He muttered. Manuela gasped, and motioned for him to go on as she sat on the cot across from his.

“I don’t recall much of the moment. But Sei- _Rhea_ said I would need months of bedrest before I walked again. _If_ I walked again.”

“But you did.” Manuela pointed out gently, and he nodded.

“It was some months later. Two or three, I can’t remember exactly. The first year or so, I’d feel this… this debilitating pain at every step. It wouldn’t go away no matter what. Then slowly it started to fade away, and nowadays it is only rekindled if I tire myself too much. But that’s all I know.”

Manuela nodded sagely, a thoughtful expression of medical professionalism having taken over her face. She didn’t joke nor flirted, only stood up and walked over to where he was sitting.

“May I see where exactly?” She asked softly, used by now to comforting patients rather than scolding them into submission. Seteth’s heart clenched- of course it would come to this. It was why he hadn’t wanted to drag her into it.

But he didn’t really have much of a choice. It wasn’t like he could get up and leave, anyway. He just… He would have to trust Manuela.

He hadn’t trusted anyone in so long.

Slowly, his hand rose to the top button of his tunic.

“I- ah…” He fumbled for words. “First, you have to swear to me that whatever you see, you won’t tell a soul.”

The woman seemed a little confused by that statement.

“I hadn’t taken you for the type of man to worry about appearances at moments such as these.” She commented, but gave her word nonetheless. Doctor’s silence and all that, she said dismissively. He could only hope she would live up to it.

He unbuttoned his tunic and let it slip off his shoulders, exposing his torso to her. Manuela’s eyes lingered only for a moment to the muscles across his abdomen and arms, before she came around him to look at his back. Seteth waited for the scream of horror to come, and when it never did, he angled his head slightly to look at her through tired eyes.

Manuela looked shocked. She had raised a hand halfway to her mouth, and was staring as if she’d seen a monster. Seteth supposed that in a way, she had.

“S-Seteth…?” She stammered, and he sighed.

“It’s an effect of my Crest. Major Crests grant physical attributes, and it seems that is how the Crest of Cichol manifests. I do not know why, but it’s been like this ever since I was a child.”

That was the excuse he and Flayn had agreed upon, if anyone ever noticed anything strange in their anatomy. If they saw them undressed, perhaps in case of injury, or if their pupils turned to slits. Things like that.

Manuela reached out slowly, almost as if she was afraid. The pads of her fingers brushed gently against the small, pointed spikes and clusters of scales that grew across his spine, and he shuddered at the touch. She was… so gentle with him. So careful. Why? More importantly, why did her touch feel so warm and welcoming? Why did he want to feel more of it?

_Focus, you fool._

“Do these hurt?” Manuela asked quietly after a few quiet moments. He shook his head.

“Not in the least. It’s like asking if having arms hurts.”

To his surprise, she let out a small bout of laughter.

“Well then, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you Seteth?” She trilled, and he was amazed but how quickly she’d seemed to overcome the shock. “I bet Hanneman would sell his soul to the devil to have a chance to study you.”

Seteth tensed.

“You promised you won’t tell anyone.” His tone was clipped, strained with fear. If anyone came to know, if they learned who he and Flayn truly were, then…

“Calm down.” Manuela waved him off. “I gave my word and I’ll have you know that I intend to take your secret to my grave. Although I don’t see why it’s such a great deal.”

_No, indeed you don’t. You’re so lucky, Manuela. Humans are so lucky. If only I could bare my heart to you…_

“You wouldn’t like it if everyone around you knew you were partially covered in lizard scales, either.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point, I wouldn’t.” She smiled at him. “Okay, my lizard. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Seteth blushed, huffing indignantly. “Do not call me that!”

“Hey, you gotta pay for my silence. And my services.” She jested, bringing a jar of some kind of herbal ointment and sitting behind him. “Now, the wound is so old that healing it in any degree is way past my healing magic. But I can dull the pain, so you can get some proper sleep. How does that sound?”

“I wouldn’t ask for anything else, to be perfectly honest.” _Just please, make it stop. I fear I cannot bear it any longer._

Manuela hummed, dipping her fingers into the jar and scooping some of its contents out of it. Seteth sniffed the air, detecting the smell of calendula and yarrow, and the more abstract herbal tang of white magic.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can, but it may hurt a little at first.” Manuela warned him, and he shook his head to show he understood. How much worse could it get, anyway?

Manuela smeared the ointment over the deformed, star-shaped scar in the middle of his back. She lay her palm right above it afterwards, allowing her magic to flow through her, to him. Seteth held back a cry as red-hot fire seemed to course through his very bones, his pulse quickening as he struggled to remain still. Goddess, it felt as if the wound was reopening, the flesh tearing underneath Manuela’s touch and the bones cracking-

“You can shout if you want.” Manuela’s voice was gentle, as was the touch of her other hand that she lay on his shoulder. “Let it out.”

Seteth couldn’t rationalise it further. He fumbled for the cot’s pillow, pulling it up and pressing it onto his face to drown out the scream of agony that ripped out of his throat a moment later. Muffled though it was, Manuela winced- she’d never seen him so… undone before. He’d never shown the slightest sign of discomfort if he could avoid it, and to hear him cry out in such a manner only drove home the amount of pain he must have been in.

“It’s alright.” She whispered, her free hand rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder. She could feel her magic slowly washing over his body, numbing the afflicted nerves and soothing the inflamed tissue. His heartbeat thrummed against her open palm, his agonised cries driving knives into her heart.

When had she started feeling this way about him? This wish to comfort, to soothe his pain and hold his face in her hands, tell him everything was going to be okay? When had her feelings towards him changed from mere cravings of the flesh to genuine feelings?

She wanted to protect him from the world, and all the sorrows it carried. He had suffered so much, and she wanted to tell him that he could trust her; they could suffer together. If she could just shoulder some of his burdens…

Seteth’s screams slowly faded. She heard him breathe heavily, his face still buried into the pillow. She removed her hand, making sure all of the salve she’d applied had been absorbed into his skin through her magic, and nodded in satisfaction. She rounded the cot and sat next to him.

“Is it better now?”

Seteth finally lifted his head, and Manuela was shocked to see his face was smeared with tears. They stared at each other for a moment. Then, tentatively, Manuela reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand. Her thumb brushed away a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Better?” She asked again, and he nodded. To her surprise, he leaned into her touch- was he perhaps as tired of hiding as she was?

“Thank you, Manuela. I… I’m sorry.” He murmured, still a bit dazed but not moving away. She rolled her eyes.

“What are you sorry for, you fool?” She chastised him softly. He smiled a little, his eyes half-closed with relief and exhaustion.

“I am not entirely certain…” He admitted. “But nonetheless, I am thankful for your help.”

Manuela smiled and scooted a bit closer to him.

“See? It won’t kill you to let others help from time to time.” Then, in a more quiet voice. “I did not wish to see you suffer like that.”

Seteth blinked slowly.

“You… ah-“ he fumbled for the right words “why?”

“Because I care about you.” Manuela replied slowly, maintaining eye contact all the while. When Seteth didn’t reply, still looking confused, she groaned.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, genius? I’ve cared about you for a while. I… like you. In a way. In many ways. I know your head’s buried too deep into paperwork to notice, but I wanted you to know anyway.”

Great, she sounded sentimental and ridiculous. Surely he would not appreciate that. He would push her away politely, remind her that such words weren’t at all proper between colleagues and that she was just make everything very awkward for both of them, wouldn’t he?

Seteth said none of those things.

Instead, he leaned in, his forehead coming to rest against hers. Manuela lost a heartbeat.

“…Seteth?” She dared say, afraid that the slightest noise on her part would serve as a waking-up call, and he would move away. But he didn’t. He just hummed quietly.

“I admit I am tired of running from everything.” He whispered. “I… You mean a lot to me, Manuela. To think I would not be the only one harbouring such foolish feelings…”

“Love is not foolish.” She had meant for it to sound stern, but her smile had seeped into her voice. “ _Hope_ is not foolish. Why don’t you let yourself feel, Seteth? What do you have to lose?”

_Nothing. Everything. I wish I could tell you. I wish I were allowed to pour my secrets out to you, and ask you to judge me for all that I am. But alas, I cannot. I can only love you, and hope that will be enough._

He said none of those words. Instead, he drew her close and pressed his lips on hers. It was not really a kiss; it was more like a touch, gentle and experimental, but the intent was clear. Manuela’s hand brushed up against his abdomen, coming to rest on his chest where his heart still beat erratically. He shuddered under her caress, and the soft gasp of his breath against her lips lit a fire within her, more genuine than anything else she had felt in years.

Sensing what she was capable of doing if she allowed this to continue, Manuela gently pushed Seteth away.

His eyes were filled with questions, and she realised he was likely foolish enough to have interpreted it as dismissal.

“As much as I would love to hear more unusual sounds from you tonight,” she started “I believe you need sleep more than you need anything else at the moment.”

Seteth cleared his throat, blushing and looking away.

“Ah- of course, you’re correct. I, ah, I should go-“ he reached out for his discarded tunic, but she placed a hand over his own.

“You don’t have to leave, Seteth. You can spend the night here. Besides, walking up the stairs won’t do you good. Just rest here, for as long as you need.”

Seteth looked down at their joined hands. “Will I not be a burden? Will the students not ask questions?”

She had to resist the urge to facepalm. “The answer to both is no. Besides, if they ask I’ll just tell them you’re sick with something unidentifiable that’s contagious and requires my attention.”

“You do realise this will just make them more suspicious?” He smiled at her. She waved a hand dismissively.

“Children these days are simply witless. They wouldn’t suspect I was lying if I told them dragons still existed among us.”

At that, Seteth laughed- a genuine, wonderful sound she hadn’t heard before. She didn’t know why that particular example had been so funny to him, but she smiled in satisfaction.

“Now, now.” She tapped his shoulder with an index finger as soon as he quieted down. “Why don’t you lie down like a good boy, and get some sleep? I’ll tell Flayn you’re as good as new, and that you were too tired to get to your room. Okay?”

Seteth nodded, and allowed her to push him down on the bed. He waved her away shyly when she tried to cover him up with a blanket, and she assumed that his dignity had suffered enough blows for one day. She stayed until she made sure there was nothing else he’d need, and then walked out to find Flayn.

“Goodnight.” She said from the doorway. “Do make sure to get some proper sleep, yes?”

“Yes, I promise.” He smiled at her. “And… thank you, Manuela. For everything.”

_May you one day forgive me, for I hide such things from you. Perhaps those who wish me dead are true, and I am truly a monster, because only monsters lie about who they are. But for now, just for a while, let me just pretend._

_Let me pretend that we can have a life together, if only for a night._

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @flaythleann


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